*is very, very amused*
Men at Arms! Low Budget! In god knows what language!
Carrot (or Karotka) absolutely kills me.
Note: (from a different production) Is Lady Ramkin played by a man here?
Just saw “Copenhagen”, with a long “a”. Now off to sleep for three thousand years. Wake me if anything interesting happens.
Friday Five!
1. What is your most prized material possession?
Probably either Jimmy or my tablet. Sentimentally-prized-wise, probably the calendar.
2. What item, that you currently own, have you had the longest?
My bookshelf has been in my room as long as I can remember.
3. Are you a packrat?
Find my someone who isn’t a packrat. As theorized in “The Cobra Event”, nearly all artists are packrats. I’m actually getting better about it, though. A few months ago, I painstakingly went through my entire room, throwing/giving/recycling away mass amounts of junk. It was impressive.
4. Do you prefer a spic-and-span clean house? Or is some clutter necessary to avoid the appearance of a museum?
Give me clutter or give me death!
5. Do the rooms in your house have a theme? Or is it a mixture of knick-knacks here and there?
Knick-knaks. Save theme rooms for the pediatrician’s office.
Matt insists on a daily dose of sexiness. For today, how about an ASCII table dance?
/`
o._,
.
/ |
/ |,
I need a new hobby.
::gawps::
Is there anyone here that doesn’t want to see my table dance? 0_o;
Weirdoes, the lot of you. Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll upload snippets of the recording in May. XP
While looking through Winter Formal pictures, it occurs to me that I’d make a good femme fatale.
Meanwhile, in Java today, we learned about arrays, which we always named “Arr”. Lots of pirate jokes, mostly from my direction. Avast, ye scurvy dogs!
I have nothing better to say. Ain’t blogging grand?
Three days later, the groom was found visciously murdered by his mother-in-law. No one suggests this venue and survives!
Bonus: more bridal fun!
Oh, gravy. We started choreographing “It’s All the Same”, my table dance. This proved quite difficult, as I’m incapable of being sexy. I’m starting to get a hang on the body rolls, but I’m going to have to pour in massive ammounts of practice in order to be truly saucy. Yay for feeling like a moron!
But I’m feeling like a happy moron, because on the way back from rehearsal, inspiration struck for one of Vimes’ songs. Yay, potential! And it doesn’t seem like the lyrics are going to be as difficult, compared to some of the others. Go me.
Now sleepy.
Har. Gracias to Rachel M.
Rachel brought the Buffy musical to Sci-Fi Club today. A brief synopsis:
Rachel: Okay, this is the second of two sci-fi musicals–
Me: What’s the first?
Rachel: Little Shop of Horrors.
Me: I knew that. Can I write the third?
Rachel: Be my guest.
Burkhead: What happened to Oz?
Someone: He left to face his werewolf side, but then he ((she goes on for about 20 seconds)).
Aurelia: Or in other words, his contract ran out.
[People sing and dance]
Me: Dude, I would so live there.
Me: Good gods, look at those cheekbones! You could build bookshelves on them!
Marcelina: He’s not even British! He just wishes he could be British!
Me: And his eyebrows are a different color from his hair!
Burkhead: He looks like Draco Malfoy.
Me: And he can’t sing.
Marcelina: Yeah! He can’t sing, AND he’s not British, so there’s no forgiving him.
Me: Loser.
Conclusion: I would definitely live in a world where people spontaneously burst into song and dance. I’d just make sure I constantly surrounded myself with people that can sing, because otherwise it could be unpleasant. And I will always think of Michelle Trachtenberg as Harriet the Spy.